


Knowledge- A PxS Week Prompt

by danechka



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Ficlet, Might expand this...?, PxSWeek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 15:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7850818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danechka/pseuds/danechka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For PxSWeek 2016. Short fic in a modern AU. Sansa Stark’s professor is an old friend, and enemy, from a difficult time in her childhood. Searching for answers, she confronts him after years that she believes were spent in the dark; though perhaps he was the one that got her through it all. Possible underage references.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knowledge- A PxS Week Prompt

**Author's Note:**

> Although I used another song for the inspiration, if you are a reader who likes to listen and read I would recommend Bye Annie, Bye Joe, Bye Michael, Bye Jake—El Ten Eleven. Sorry I didn't edit: I'm seriously considering using this for a longer story so I'll clean it up later (: Feel free to chat with me or send feedback at my new gin and sin palace www.mockingbird-on-the-throne.tumblr.com

~~Silk~~ or _Knowledge_ \- A PxSWeek Prompt

 

Sansa did not believe she would see him again after what happened in her middle school. Then she had been young, only fourteen, when she had finally escaped that boarding school. Back then, Mr Baelish had been a guardian angel of sorts. But when her family was torn apart, after all the death, it was difficult to continue studying. He was always there for her, but she had known that his intentions were not good. The extra lessons were not in search of knowledge, as he had told her. They were a personal quest for her compliance, her obedience. But she learned well, and she left.

She could still feel his hands on her shoulders, holding her too gently. She could feel his hesitation. His soft lips contrasting with his rough eagerness. She had escaped before he had done much more than that. If she had been older… Well, it was in the past. Things had changed. She had become the clever apprentice he desired, he created from his own fantasies. In turn, she abandoned the man that first awakened her thirst for knowledge. She had found ways around the broken system that would have seen her undereducated, malnourished, and neglected in a foster home. He had changed, too. Professor Baelish had gone from an English teacher in a small private high school to a published and well respected department head in a leading university. He went far in only six years.

So had Sansa Stark.

One other thing seemed to have changed, and it was the only thing that puzzled Sansa now. It was the only thing that made it difficult for her to take control of this situation. She had planned out their meeting, down to each second, each touch, even how they would look at each other. When classes opened for registration in a week or two, she would be ready to study literature with Professor Baelish. And as soon as the class rosters were printed, when he read her name and knew she had come to demand what she wanted, she would be there, after hours, ready to confront her past and her future. No reason to wait until next semester. She had questions that needed answering. But this question above all: the one not at all concerned with her past. Presently, Baelish was alone. She watched him, carefully, between classes and even on his own street, in him own home. Where was his new apprentice?

In truth, she had been hoping for someone with whom to share her experience. To tell her story to. Someone to validate her path. But Baelish worked dutifully. He made crippling eye contact with the young women in his classes, but did not try to ensnare them.

This made things impossible. Sansa sat in her bed late at night until the urge to wander took her. She did not know why he did not seduce another. She did not know why he had not found her yet. She did not know why he chose her, why he saved her, why he damned her.

Friday evening, after class. She stood in the doorway of the lecture hall, looking down at wear he was gathering papers from the desk at the front of the room. He placed them into his leather messenger bag and Sansa tried to shake the feeling of his phantom hands from years ago, resting on her shoulders, pushing her towards those steps. She felt the memory of his gripping her arms, his chest to her back and his lips to her hair. Like an embrace. He looked out the window into the rain and she began her decent.

It was not what she had planned. He was supposed to see the next roster, her own name glaring at him from the page; a promise of retribution and resolution. But he was staring out at the brownstone buildings just beyond the grey glass, and she was getting closer. Her flat black shoes made no sound on the carpeted steps. She stood beside him and waited for him to look away from the rain.

He turned to her, but did not meet her eyes. ‘I knew you would come soon.’

‘How could you have known that?’ Her script went out the window. She could feel him gripping her left wrist in her memory, and she put her right hand over the place.

‘Once you arrived here, it was only a matter of time until you sought me out. I’m surprised you didn’t kick down my door on the first day of class,’ he said with only slight crack in his voice as he met her sky blue eyes with his stormy ones. Her breath hitched in her throat and she swallowed involuntarily.

She wanted to ask him why he helped her. Why he forced her to stay with him and study, observe, and prepare. Was he preparing her to be his? She knew he was. So why did he let her go?

‘Why don’t you see any other girls after class?’ she blurted. He obviously had not expected her to say that. He jumped back visibly.

‘I don’t know what you mean-‘

‘I mean,’ she tried again, ‘I have watched you every afternoon and most evenings. I have even followed you on weekends. I have listened to your colleagues and my peers gossip, and I don’t understand! You’re alone, aren’t you?’ She had stepped closer. He could see her pulse throb in her throat, and he so wanted to put his mouth on it. Why did she share this newly acquired knowledge? She should have begun with the accusations.

There were new lines in the face just a meter from her own. She was almost his height now, with hollowed cheeks and a hungry glint that did not exist when her eyes last met his. His eyes were still grey-green storms that could not smile. His hair was more than touched by grey now, even though he had not yet seen forty. His clothes were smart, but there was a worn look to him from head to foot.

‘I wasn’t really alone, Sansa,’ he reached out to her slowly, keeping his eyes locked with hers. ‘I was simply waiting for you to return.’

She didn’t pull away when his hand made contact with her upper arm. His fingers laid over the place where the phantom had been holding her, where it held her every night as the sky lightened and she finally surrendered to sleep.

‘Why would you wait? How did you know I would want to see you?’

He smiled slightly, but the small sign of his emotions disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

‘You were my pupil. You were the daughter I might have had. And you were more than that,’ his eyes finally darted away, just for a moment, and a spell was broken. She had been leaning into him… but she caught herself, and straightened up. ‘You needed me as I needed you. We weren’t so different, when you think about it. You lost everything and I started with nothing. I had to learn how to survive in this world where nothing is handed to most of us. I discovered quite quickly that a sharp mind and quiet observation will go a long way, and not all battles can be fought with strength alone,’ he leaned in slightly and his nose almost touched hers. Somehow, as he had talked, he had been moving closer to her without her noticing. Of course, it might have been her moving into him all along.

‘Mr Baelish,’ she murmured. He was so close, she did not need to speak up. ‘I came here to show you what I have become. I’m here, I have money and resources and soon I will have an education. I saved myself out there!’ She barely had to lean in to whisper in his ear. ‘I know that I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.’

As he turned to her his lips brushed against her cheek, just beside her earlobe. His breath was soft and even, though the control was clearly forced.

‘I have a feeling that you wanted to tell me something very different when you first came here…’

She smiled into his neck before pulling away. ‘Mr Baelish- _Professor_ Baelish: all I know I learned from you.’

He swallowed and moved his hand softly from her upper arm to cup her face.

‘Please,’ he whispered, almost into her mouth, ‘call me Petyr.’


End file.
